Wenxiu Continent, Tingxiang Kingdom, Yun City, Tang Family Estate.
In the pavilion of the estate’s rear courtyard, an elderly man in a flowing robe stood before a stone table, his hand gripping a brush as he wrote with bold, fluid strokes. Upon closer inspection, one would notice that his fingers never actually touched the brush—his writing was entirely controlled by a stream of true energy.
From a distance, he exuded an air of refined elegance and scholarly grace.
But just as he was about to complete another stroke, his true energy wavered, causing the brush to tremble and leave an unsightly mark on the paper. The steward, who was brewing tea nearby, twitched involuntarily. He knew all too well that the old master’s mood had just taken a turn for the worse.
"Bang!"
As expected, the elderly man, who had hoped to calm his anger with a moment of artistic indulgence, slammed the brush onto the table and bellowed, "Someone, go check if that little bastard is awake! If he is, tell him to drag himself over here immediately!"
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"The true method of using the Heaven-Creation Cauldron is to refine its spirit and merge it with one's own body... Dammit! I cultivated incorrectly from the start! No wonder I hit a bottleneck in my alchemy!"
Mumbling in a daze, Tang Yan suddenly jolted awake, his eyes snapping open in shock. "Wait a minute! Didn’t the cauldron explode? Didn’t I die in the blast? How am I still conscious?"
His surroundings slowly came into focus. He was lying on a soft bed, encased in luxury.
Before he could process his situation, a surge of foreign memories flooded his mind. Two distinct sets of recollections clashed, sending a sharp, unbearable pain through his head.
It took a long moment before Tang Yan let out a deep breath, finally recovering from the agony. As he sifted through the unfamiliar memories, his expression grew increasingly bizarre.
In his past life, he had been an unparalleled alchemist, a mysterious figure within the hidden world of cultivators on Earth.
Cultivation had always existed in China, but as time progressed, these practitioners faded into secrecy, blending into the mountains, rivers, and even bustling cities, forming an underground community known as the Inner Martial World.
Yet, here he was, reborn—his soul having taken over the body of a youth with the same name, Tang Yan, the eldest son of the prestigious Tang family.
Realizing his new noble identity, Tang Yan felt momentarily relieved. At least he was a young master in this life—far better than being reborn as some lowly commoner.
However, that relief quickly evaporated.
This world was one where strength ruled above all, with cultivation ranks divided into five tiers: Heaven, Earth, Profound, Yellow, and Origin—each further split into nine grades.
And the previous owner of this body? A mere Grade-2 Origin Rank cultivator.
Tang Yan nearly choked on his own breath. "Are you kidding me? He started cultivating at six years old! Even a dog could've reached Grade-3 by now!"
As he dug deeper into this body's past, he felt an overwhelming urge to slap himself.
If someone were to document this boy’s sixteen-year life, they might as well title it: "How to Become the Ultimate Good-for-Nothing."
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
In his previous life, Tang Yan had been a prodigy. By the age of five, he had mastered music, chess, calligraphy, and martial theory. By seven, he had stepped into the world of alchemy. At twenty-four, he was known as the Young Alchemy King. By thirty-eight, he had ascended to the rank of Alchemy Grandmaster, capable of refining Grade-9 elixirs!
Throughout the Inner Martial World, there were only a handful who could match his skill. Countless powerful figures owed him favors for his life-saving elixirs. Even the mightiest of warriors would bow and address him with reverence—"Master Alchemist."
And yet, compared to that, the original owner of this body was... utter trash.
As if that weren’t bad enough, he hadn't even died a noble death.
The reason for his demise? He had tried to assault Lin Dongxue, the daughter of the city lord—only to be caught in the act and beaten nearly to death by Liu Zhi, the young master of the Liu family. His dantian was shattered, and his weak, indulgent body couldn't withstand the injuries. He perished on the spot.
By sheer misfortune—or perhaps divine will—Tang Yan's soul had merged with this ruined body.
Something about the whole scenario felt off, but with his mind still in turmoil, he couldn’t piece it together just yet.
Just as he was about to reflect further, a hurried voice interrupted him.
"Young Master! Something’s wrong! The old master—he's summoning you!"
A maid rushed in, panic evident in her voice.
Tang Yan glanced at her and slowly adjusted his robe. "I see."
"Young Master, the old master said... you need to get there immediately!" The maid, Xiao Cui, lowered her voice anxiously, afraid that he would delay any further.
Hearing this, Tang Yan paused for a moment before rubbing her head with a chuckle. "Well, that sounds urgent."
Unlike before, the former waste of a young master was gone. Tang Yan knew exactly why his grandfather was calling for him. It was nothing more than a scolding session. Did he really need to rush over just to get berated?
Besides, his mind was still a mess. If he said the wrong thing, there was a real chance that his grandfather would slap him into an early grave.
Then again, knowing the old man’s temper, if he didn’t show up, the old master would personally storm in and drag him over. That would probably end in an even worse beating.
"Fine, fine. I’ll go. Bring me a fresh set of clothes."
"Here, Young Master," Xiao Cui responded swiftly, handing him a robe.
Tang Yan took one look at the garment and felt his face darken.
The luxurious silk robe was covered in holes. Strangely enough, each hole was adorned with tiny gold ornaments.
What the hell kind of fashion statement was this?!
"This is mine?"
"Young Master, this is your favorite robe! You even had Granny Wang alter it seven times!" Xiao Cui whispered, though her eyes were filled with curiosity. Why did the young master seem... different today?
Tang Yan nearly spat out a mouthful of blood. "Take off all the gold trinkets and store them away. As for the robe—burn it. Get me something normal."
If his past self had put half as much effort into actual cultivation instead of questionable fashion choices, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up crippled.
After changing into proper attire, Xiao Cui couldn't help but stare. The arrogant, reckless young master she had always known... suddenly looked like a different person.
Could it be...? Had the young master finally turned over a new leaf?
With a deep breath, Tang Yan followed the familiar path to the rear courtyard.
From a distance, he spotted a towering old man, standing by a stone table, holding a brush with an air of scholarly leisure.
Yet with his sharp senses, Tang Yan could feel it—the old master’s suppressed fury, seething beneath his composed exterior.
And sure enough, that anger was directed entirely at him.
"Grandfather," Tang Yan greeted, bracing himself.
Silence.
The butler, Uncle Mo, remained still. The nearby servants didn’t dare to breathe too loudly. Though the old master appeared calm, the palpable tension in the air was suffocating.
Then—
"BANG!"
The brush snapped in two as the old master slammed it onto the stone table.
"You little bastard! I tolerated your laziness! I overlooked your misdeeds! But now? You actually dared to attempt to assault the city lord’s daughter—and failed?! You’ve brought utter disgrace to the Tang family!"
Tang Yan nearly choked. That was his biggest concern?
"At six years old, I tested your aptitude myself! You inherited the finest bloodline of our Tang family! You were born with top-tier talent!"
"If you had trained properly, would your dantian be shattered now? Would you be lying half-dead in bed? This is entirely your own fault! And now you expect me to clean up your mess?!"